seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Belarus
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Taiwan
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Türkiye
And I want it to hurt, the next time he saw me. I want to be walking towards someone else when I hadn't noticed him walking towards me. I want him to see my hair longer, my body stronger, my skin glowing. I want it to hurt.
Things written in the margins of my notebook
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Give me a love of wine and laughter and a night-time-fool's sin just to be reminded of the heaven that is waking up next to you.
Things written in the margins of my notebook
My worst fear is feeling like a body being used. I'm terrified of fingers running up and down my skin that don't know how I love. Lips shouldn't press against my neck unless if they know what makes me laugh the hardest. No arms should pick me up unless if they know how much my thoughts weigh on my heart. Learn me before you use me, that is all I ask.
Things written in the margins of my notebook (to the man I love next)
It was only the build up but
I think about our skin touching
Seems like just a moment ago
nausea reminds me it’s been much longer
I wonder if we’ll ever finish
empty poems
I used to claim you never loved me, that I was an object for you to use. I used to claim you only knew how to hurt, but in reality you were just a fuse, ready to be burned by anyone strong enough to hold a match. you never meant for your I love you's to be daggers to me now, you never wanted my strength and resolve, to come from the pain you gave me. you said you cried for days when you left me. I cried for months. my pain was always intertwined with yours. I think about you from time to time, how you're doing, how you are.. if your new best friend knows she shouldn't stay too far. the date is coming up, it'll be a year soon, since I saw that face staring at me from across the desk, and those eyes so full of sadness and hurt. I had always hoped we'd clean up our mess. but our paths have taken us further away, and sometimes I fear I'll never see you again. but these fears are small, and I am content with them, but if you are reading this, and if by chance, one day you remember me, and read my writings again... talk to me. I may be wanting to hear from you. (by Robyn Garcia) just another empty poem for a person who will never read them
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Oh boy, she’s closed and locked her doors now. Watch from the windows and see the chimney blow its smoke because I promise she’s still in there. But now she’s trying to figure out the cracks in the wood so that maybe the house won’t collapse again.
Things written in the margins of my notebook
Yesterday I smiled at my mother and said we just aren't good together But I was scratching my skin raw underneath of my sweater She gave me a shrug and told me I was still young But a bullet can't kill if you don't have a gun
r.b.w.
Sunlight shone in with everything I wish I had professed to you And finally I streamed in With my heart and soul And wondered Why you closed the blinds
Things written in the margins of my notebook
